


spring when the world is mud

by badAquatic



Series: Trailerstuck [90]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, F/F, F/M, Fan Offspring, Illustrated, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:16:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are Karkat Vantas. You managed to survive high school, constant crises, and even got a steady job. Now all you have to do is conquer the next great step in life: dealing with your son for the entire summer instead of just a weekend. Everything is fine. You can totally do this. </p><p>(ShitshitshitHOLYSHIT, you are not ready for this at all.)</p><p>Takes place after 'all the pain money can buy'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. training for father of the year

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to take this time to thank everyone for sticking with this story despite the constant delays and illness on my part. Thank you so much. I never thought TS would mean so much to a lot of people, but I'd like to thank you too. This story has definitely helped me through my own personal crises over the past year. Anyway, enough of me being sappy. On with our shenanigans!
> 
> Last time on Trailerstuck:  
> Everyone graduated high school and it was a fun time for all. Except John.

**== >Be Karkat a year into the future**

 

“Of all the things, you just _had_ to get her the creepiest doll in the store?” Dave grumbles.

“How long are you going to keep complaining?” you ask, pretending to take a sip from the plastic teacup.

Dave rocks from left to right. “No matter where I turn, its looking at me.” He tugs on your arm.

You look at the embodiment of Dave’s nightmares: a purple and gold clown doll. It had been sitting in the toy section’s bargain bin at Wal-Mart, abandoned and unloved. You knew there was one human child who’d appreciate it. Having it terrify Dave is a bonus.

Nessie returns with a dripping teapot. “Tea!” she announces and pours muddy water into the cups. Its spills over and you can see dead mosquitoes floating on the surface.

“Please tell me that’s not pond water.” You murmur.

“Odds are that it is.” Dave says.

“It’s _special_ tea.” Nessie insists, holding up a cup.   

“ _Definitely_ from a puddle.” Dave sighs.

 

 

You’ll never understand Nessie’s obsession with making pretend food from things found in the yard. Once she started walking, she transitioned from ‘pretend invisible stuff on the plate is real’ to ‘pretend this pile of mud is a chocolate cake’. You’re getting ready to covertly dump the pond water into the grass when there’s a Xena-style warrior screech.

“This land is now part of my domain!” yells a small voice.

Khanie runs over, brandishing a wooden sword. The kit’s hair has been cut into a jagged style, held in place with neon teal barrettes. At the sight of the other child, Nessie stands and thumps her small hands on the table.

“Go away, Khanie!” Nessie shrieks, “You weren’t _invited_!”

“No one disinvites the Khan!” Khanie yells.

Before Dave or you can move, Khanie flips the table. Plastic teacups, dishes, and imaginary food flies through the air and into the grass. Khanie stands before the toppled table and points her sword at Nessie.

“I declare this party part of the English Khanate!” Khanie declares, “Prepare to be colonized, converted, drawn and quartered!”

Nessie’s response is a savage, wordless scream. The calm civilization of tea parties has been abandoned and her inner barbarian summoned. Nessie digs her nails into the wet earth and starts pelting Khanie. Khanie dives behind the picnic table for shelter.

“You’re disrespecting the Khan’s heavenly mandate!” Khanie yells and starts tearing up her own section of the lawn.

Strider and you sit in the midst of mud-based warfare. You’re never sure who will win. Khanie has better aim but Nessie has Jade’s strength, throwing clumps with enough anger and power to rival the best pitchers.

“Should we _do_ something?” you ask.

“Do you want to drink pond water ‘tea’?” Dave asks.

“Not particularly.”

Dave shrugs. “Then let them tire each other out.”

A second later there’s a screech followed by crying. Nessie runs over to Dave sobbing and pointing to a welt on her arm.

“Daddy, Khanie hurt meee!” Nessie wails.

“Nessie, it’s not that bad--” Dave says but the girl only sobs harder. It’s a small bruise and you’ve seen her get worse from just falling, but Nessie is smart enough to know the bigger deal she makes, the more trouble Khanie will get in. Dave is a sucker for such antics and pulls his daughter into a reassuring hug.

Of course, you’re also a sucker.

“ _Khanie_!” you say. The teal kit scowls at you from behind the picnic table. “What did we say about _rocks_?”

Khanie’s answer is to throw a rock at your head. You dodge because you’ve had past practice with her projectiles.

You get to your feet. “Oh, hell no! Khanie! Get over here!”

“Long live the Khanate!” and then Khanie runs from the yard as fast as her little legs can carry her.

You chase after the tealblood but Khanie’s small, fast, and determined. When you run to the front yard, she’s already disappeared. You curse Dirk and Jake’s sneakiness because no doubt their daughter has picked up a few tricks.

You scan the street. It’s a regular summer late afternoon. Astrid is sitting on Kankri’s front lawn jabbing at bugs with a sharp stick. Kempie sits on the porch while his father reads aloud. There are no shadows squirming behind tree or any obvious hints as to where Khanie could have run off to.

You walk over to Astrid and look at your half-sister. “You see a teal brat walk by here?”

Astrid doesn’t answer. She’s too busy stabbing a centipede.

You look at Kankri, pointing at his daughter. “There some reason she’s doing this new weird thing?”

“It’s not ‘weird’, Karkat.” Kankri says without even looking up from the book, “It’s Astrid’s way of expressing herself. She’s incredibly shy.”

Although Astrid is stabbing the hell out of the centipede, her face is blank. It’s fucking scary but you know better than to say it. Kankri chewed out Kurloz multiple times for calling their daughter a ‘creepy little runt’.

“Have you seen Khanie?” you ask.

Kankri turns a page. “I saw her running by. I bet she’s at the usual place.”

Captor’s. Shit. You start the walk down the road and the closer you get to the trailer, the louder the sounds of children become. Momeju, Dmitry, and Suxxor are running around in swimming clothes squirting each other with water guns. Eridan sits in a lawn chair pretending to watch the kids but taking a light nap.  

You approach your brother. “Uh...hey...”

Eridan blinks back into the waking world. He smirks. “Don’t worry. Sollux is out shopping.”

You glare at him. “I’m not worried about seeing Sollux.”

“Yeah, you _totally_ haven’t been avoiding each other for the past week.” Eridan opens the cooler and takes out a can of ice tea amongst the juice boxes and orange slices. “You looking for Khanie?”

“And thinking about tanning her hide for this bullshit.” You snort.

“You can’t spank a kid that isn’t legally yours.”

“I know, but I can think about it!” You don’t think you have the heart to go through with an actual spanking though.

Eridan smirks. “I haven’t seen Khanie. Maybe she’s at-- _Suxxor_!”  

“I didn’t do it!” is Suxxor’s immediate response.

The yellowblood kit has knocked over Dmitry and is squirting the fuchsiablood in the face. Dmitry is hissing and looking ready to drop the squirt gun and attack with fangs and claws.

“Stop that and get over here.” Eridan says.

Suxxor grumbles and stomps over to his mother. It’s strange how much he looks like Sollux, except his eyes are monochromatic and he lacks the constant hum of his father’s psionics. Still he pouts like Eridan. “ _What_?” he asks.

“Don’t get an attitude.” Eridan says, “Have you seen Khanie?”

“No!” Suxxor says, “Can I _go_ now?”

Eridan narrows his eyes. “Go inside, Suxxor.”

Suxxor’s immediate response is to run but Eridan snatches him by the ear. Suxxor hisses and yowls in Alternia while Eridan yells at him in the same language. The only time you hear Eridan speak it now is when he’s yelling at his kids. Eridan leads Suxxor inside and returns ten minutes later sans yellowblood.

“How do you catch him so quickly?” you ask.

Eridan smiles. “Reflexes.”

Without Suxxor’s manic energy, the seatroll kits become disinterested in continuing the fight. They lounge in the kiddie pool, basking like iguanas. 

Eridan sits back in his chair. “Where are Dirk and Jake? Shouldn’t _they_ be dealing with their pain of a daughter?”

“Emergency contract in East New Jack.” You sigh, “I said I would watch Khanie. I’ve been practicing. For tomorrow.”

Eridan’s eyes widen. “Oh shit. Tomorrow’s the day isn’t it?”

When you nod, Eridan offers you iced tea from the cooler. You take it and sit next to him on the grass. You’re not too worried about Khanie getting into trouble. Wherever she’s hiding, she always returns home. There’s a high chance that she never left and could be hiding under the couch again or her bed.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You sigh, “I thought about planning activities but it’s summer, so my schedule is changing. I’ll be working most of the time and then...” You pause and sip your tea. You almost wish it was alcoholic.

“Kar, calm down.” Eridan rests his hand on your shoulder. “Arthat’s going to love you.”

You shake your head. “You’ve never _met_ the kid.”

Once Arthat molted, Vriska was less keen about him visiting the park. She could leave him alone with Snippy for days but she balked at him staying with you for the summer. The only way you could seal the agreement is if Arthat would visit Aranea as well.

“If he only has a lusus, I bet he’s lonely.” Eridan says, “You should bring him around. Introduce him to the kids.”

A moving truck rumbles down the road. More of them have been present in your neighborhood since the start of summer, whether its people moving away or coming in. You decide that you can’t linger and go to see where Khanie could have gone.


	2. new kid on the block

**== >Karkat: Be your nephew**

You are currently Suxxor Captor and after having a reasonable argument with your mother (which just so happened to take the form of a temper tantrum), you are stuck inside your trailer. There’s no worse punishment than being stuck inside. The trailer is hot and there’s no one here but you. The door isn’t locked and the windows are open but you’ll make your punishment worse by defying your mother.  

Whatever. You can find a way to amuse yourself. You search for the TV remote but it’s locked with the consoles. You curse your mother’s insistence that you watch too much TV (which you totally _don’t_ ) and go to Grandma and Grandpa’s door. You’re _definitely_ not allowed inside (especially when they aren’t home) but they never lock up their consoles.

You turn the knob but the door doesn’t yield. It’s locked. Now you’re annoyed. The hell? Why is everyone’s bedroom locked?

Then you recall your prank last month. Pops didn’t find an invasion of ants in his bedroom funny, nor was he amazed that you coerced them inside using sugar and patience when you tried to pass off the prank as a ‘science experiment’. No matter how you worded it, you were grounded.  

There’s nothing else to do but go to your room, which is a fate worse than death. No matter how much you beg and plead, your parents won’t let you get a console or put a TV in your room. You haven’t saved up for a handheld either.

Though...you could find a way to break into Pop’s room. Then you could play games on his computer, leave, and he won’t be any wiser. But how are you going to pick the lock? You have no idea but maybe Momeju’s uncle does? If TV and movies have taught you anything, it’s that scary looking guys always know how to do stuff like that.

Something rattles in your closet. Immediately you pick up your baseball bat and inch toward it. You open the closet slowly, expecting another rat. Instead, a tealblood girl stumbles out.

“ _Khanie_?” you ask.

“Shhh!” Khanie covers your mouth and glances at the window. When she hears no one approaching, she uncovers it. “You want the whole _neighborhood_ to know I’m here?” she whispers.

You put down the baseball bat. “Get out. Your Dad is looking for you.” you say but keep your voice at a whisper.

Khanie kicks you in the shin. You cover your mouth so you don’t yelp.

“He’s not my Dad you, idiot! He’s _Karkat_!” Khanie hisses.

You punch her in the arm. “What are you even doing here?”

Khanie shoves you. “I’m the Khan! I _go_ where I want and _do_ what I want!”

“Whatever.” Khanie has always been too stupid for you to put into words. Once she’s made up her mind, there’s no telling her anything different. “Do you know how to pick locks?” You may as well get some use out of her while she’s here.

Khanie shakes her head. “No. What are you trying to do?”

“I’m bored and everything’s locked up!” You flop on your bed, ignoring the mattress’s stiffness. It’s not even ‘your’ bed, as you have to share it with Dmitry. “My parents are so stupid! They take away everything that’s cool.”

“I know! Dad locks up the guns when he goes away.” Khanie grumbles, “And Daddy took away my slingshot.”

“’Cause you kept hitting Karkat with it.”

Khanie sticks out her tongue. “Show me your proof, Captor.”

You shrug, as it’s not your business to prove anything; just like your Pops has no proof you’re the one who keeps switching the sugar and salt and not your spazz grandfather.

“Who do you think has lockpicks?” you ask.

“Who cares about dumb lockpicks? Let’s do something.” Khanie is already at your window, looking out to see if the coast is clear. 

As badly as you want to follow her, you remember your mother’s warning. Mom always makes good on his punishments.

“I can’t…” you murmur.

Khanie rolls her eyes. “Are you really such a grubby baby?”

“I’m not a grubby baby!” you growl, showing your teeth, “I don’t want to get grounded again!”

“You get grounded every week.” Khanie grins. “Suxxor is a grubby baby. Suxxor is a--”

You hit her in the shoulder. “Shut up!”

Khanie slaps you across the face. You shove her, she kicks you, but there’s no energy to your fight.

You follow Khanie out of the window and rely on her to guide you. You’ve never snuck out like this but Khanie is an expert. She crawls around the back of the trailer, ignoring the bugs and dirt. She weaves between the yards without fences and exits onto the street.

You’ve never been out by yourself. You’ve never been far from the trailer without your Mom or Pops. Mom especially because he either makes you hold his hand. You feel nervous but hide it. If Khanie ever realized it, she would never stop thinking you were a grubby baby.

Kids are walking around the neighborhood or playing in the street without adults in sight. You don’t know most of them since you’re normally parked on the couch. You do see two familiar faces heading down the road on a Lil Shredder bike: Torken Nitram and Simham Leijon.

Khanie waves to them and Torken steers over. Gods, Torken is so cool. By far, he’s the coolest kid in the neighborhood and his parents buy him anything he wants: a bike, skateboard, rollerblades, a phone...it’s totally unfair! Simham, though, is the exact _opposite_ of cool. He’s always wearing animal pajama onesies like he’s still a grub.

 

 

“Where you two headed?” Khanie asks.

Torken points down the road. “Checking out the new neighbors. Heard it’s leprechauns.”

“The dude on the Lucky Charms box?” you ask.

“Don’t be _stupid_.” Khanie says, “He means the green carapaces. Like the ones that go to Karkat’s bar.”

You’ve never seen green carapaces and you’re not allowed to go to Karkat’s bar, but you’re not going to admit you don’t know. “Oh yeah.”

Simham frowns at Torken. “You said you saw a lusus.”

Torken rolls his eyes. “I saw a lusus nearby too. A big one.”

“How big?” you ask.

“Bigger than a large dog.” Torken rubs his chin. “Like...tiger sized?”

“Yeah right!” Khanie snorts, “There’s _no_ _way_ there’s a tiger lusus in the swamp!”

Torken smirks, leaning toward her. “Says who?”

“Says _me_!” Khanie points to herself. “If there was a lusus that big near here, my Dads would’ve killed it!”

“I’m not going into a gross swamp.” You _definitely_ don’t want to go near the swamp. Your parents told you all the stories about parasites, bugs, and rabid lusii.

“Awww.” Khanie snickers, “Is the grubby baby scared Mommy’s gonna find out they’re gone?”

You stamp on her foot. “I’m not a grubby baby! Swamps are _gross_!”

“Swamps aren’t gross. They’re part of nature.” Simham says.

“Whatever.” Torken starts pedaling away. “You babies can come or stay. I don’t care either way.”

Khanie runs after him. “Wait for me, you jerk!”

As much as you don’t want to go into the swamp, you don’t want to be left behind. That would mean sneaking back to your trailer on your own. You follow the others down the road, kicking up dust and avoiding the few cars. You’re lucky people move slow in your neighborhood due to the large amount of kids.

You turn down the road where the grass has grown tall and the trailers are dark. You don’t know why people stopped living on Neiro Street or why your parents don’t like going there. You’ve heard stories but it definitely has something to do with the sinkhole. The entire area is marked off with yellow tape and no one goes near it; not even animals.

Looking at it sends a shiver down your spine and you move closer to Khanie. The moving truck is easy to find. Large neon green carapaces are unloading furniture from the truck and onto the front lawn. A black carapace stands nearby, barking orders in a language you can’t understand. The carapace reminds you of the SS but taller and wearing a fancy suit.

“You think they’re all gonna live in that trailer?” you ask.

“Maybe.” said Simham, “What do you call a group of leprechauns anyway?”

“A pot.” Torken says with a smirk.

“Look at all that old junk.” Khanie says and by that she must mean the heavy wooden furniture. The leprechauns are sweating as they lift furniture, complaining in the strange language.

The carapace in the suit notices you. Then he goes inside and comes out a minute later. A brownblood kit follows him outside. He’s a year older than you with broad horns.

“Who’s that?” you ask, “His...kid?”

“Maybe his servant?” Simham suggests.

It wouldn’t be out of the league of imagination. The only carapaces you know are rich. You watch the suited carapace speak to the brownblood kit and then point to you. The kit nods and walks over. Immediately, you get a weird vibe from him. He’s wearing a shirt, tie, pants, and nice shoes like he’s going to church.

“Hey there.” He says, “I’m Hercul Droog. I just moved in.”

“We got eyes.” Khanie says.

“What kind of last name is ‘Droog’?” you ask. It’s definitely not a troll name.

Hercul smiles. “My last name.”

“Don’t be jerks.” Simham says, “I’m Simham. This is Torken, Khanie, and Suxxor.”

Hercul smirks, looking at you. “And you make fun of _my_ last name?”

You hold up your fist. “You want to make something of it?”

Hercul’s eyes narrow and he considers your fist like you would consider an ant crawling across your bedroom floor. It’s a half-second look and then it’s gone with another warm smile.

“Not right now.” Hercul says, “How long have you lived here?”

“Long enough.” Torken is glaring at the other brownblood. If Hercul notices the look, he’s chosen to ignore it.

Simham looks at Torken and then at Hercul. “Where are you from?”

“The Squalor.” Hercul says, “We moved here cause things aren’t so great there. I hope we get to know each other.” There’s a crash from inside the trailer followed by yelling. The brownblood sighs. “I better go. It was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too!” Simham says, cheerfully.

Hercul heads back inside the trailer. When you see the back of his clothes, you notice an unusual bulge along his spine. What’s that about? Is he a hunchback? Now you wish you could have asked him to take his shirt off.

“What a suck-up.” Torken grumbles.

“I dunno.” Simham’s large grey eyes are on Torken again.

Torken glares at his brother. “What are you _looking_ at?”

“Your face.” Simham tilts his head, “You don’t think you and him look alike?”

Torken frowns. “Yeah _right_!”

Now Khanie looks at Torken’s face. “Their horns are different.”

Torken’s horns are thinner and pointier than Hercul’s, but their faces are shaped the same including the terrible overbite. “That is weird. Maybe all brownbloods just look alike?”

“Shut up.” Torken growls and all conversation about Hercul immediately stops. Its fine to tease him but no one wants to get on Torken Nitram’s bad side.

The brownblood turns from you and pedals back down Neiro Street, heading back out to Park Avenue. When no one moves, Torken stops and looks at you.

“You bunch coming or what?” he calls.

“Coming!” Simham says and runs after his brother. Khanie and you follow after.

You travel down Park Avenue, making sure to stay to the sides of the road and avoid the cars heading from Park Street or toward the interstate. You’ve already walked this way to the 7-11 and Dollar Store, so you’re comfortable here. Still you keep a lookout for your various Aunts and Uncles.

Torken keeps moving down Park Avenue and turns down into a neighborhood you haven’t been before: Anderson Road. Like Neiro, Anderson is empty but unlike the aforementioned street, Anderson is mostly woods and the decaying trailers. The swampiness of Two Boot Drive has infected Anderson with tall grass and soggy soil. The grass has grown tall enough to hide in and some trailers have windows blown out by wind storms, their abandoned contents scattered on lawns or in the street.

Torken chains his bike to a cottonwood before exploring further. You follow and try not wince at the squelching your foot makes when it hits the mud. Water gets between your toes.  

“What’s wrong, Captor? Scared of a little _mud_?” Khanie walks on ahead over a soggy hillock.

You slap a mosquito. “Get bent, English.”

Khanie laughs and follows after Simham and Torken.

You’re surprised to learn a swamp isn’t entirely mud and an obscene amount of bugs. There are dry patches, thin trees, and large ferns. You avoid the large pools of algae-tainted water, sticking to the shallow mud.  

Simham stops at a skinny tree. A huge piece of bark has been clawed away. “It was sharpening its claws on this!” He grins. “We could be near a nest!”

“Oh, _please_.” Khanie says, “This place is too small for a tiger lusus _and_ there’s nothing for it to eat.”

“There’s plenty of things at Two Boot Drive.” Torken says.

“You just saw a tree.” Khanie says.

You hope Khanie is right. You don’t have psionics like Pops. If a tiger-sized lusus comes at you, then you’ll have to explain to your parents why your clothes are muddy and why a monster ate your legs. 

A shadow darts between the trees. They’re too clustered for you to get a good look at it, but it moves behind one of the empty trailers. You go still and even Khanie holds her breath and backs away. You run behind Torken. Then it runs out and comes toward you.

Simham points. “A bunny!”

The rabbit-lusus looks at you. It’s the largest and ugliest thing you’ve ever seen; easily mistaken for a small dog. The rabbit-lusus clucks and hops off into the grass.

“It’s so _cute_!” Simham says, but Torken grabs his arm before he can chase it.

“No way.” Torken says, “Your Mom would get mad if you got lost again.”

“I don’t get lost! I lose track of time!” Simham huffs.

“I’m _bored_.” Khanie announces. She sits on a rock, pouting. “I told you there’s no huge lusii here. These woods aren’t big enough. You were imagining things.”

“I saw it.” Torken says.

“Yeah right!”

Torken rolls his eyes. “If you’re bored, why don’t you go bother your Dads?”

“I can’t.” Khanie folds her arms, “They’re doing business. They say it’s too dangerous and I’m too small, which is stupid!” She balls her fists, “I’m way bigger and smarter than a grubby baby like _Nessie_!”

You don’t know Nessie very well. You _think_ she’s Karkat’s daughter since they’re always together, or she could be related to the people that live with Karkat.

“Don’t get mad at me because your Dads always leave you.” Torken says.

“I’ll get mad at _who_ I want, _whenever_ I want!” Khanie holds up her fist. “You wanna make something of it, Nitram?”

Torken gives her the same look Hercul gave Torken: not even considering Khanie competition a real fight. Simham and you exchange a nervous look. You have no idea who would win in a fight between Torken and Khanie but you don’t want to be part of it. Then you’ll have to explain to their scary Dads why they’re bruised and battered.

“Why are your Dads gone all the time now?” You ask, hoping to change the subject from a fight. “They were around in the winter.”

Khanie glares at you but lowers her fist. She looks at the ground, scowling. “I don’t know.” she admits, “Karkat and Dave said they’re draining swamps and the lusus that live there are angry.”

“ _What_?” Simham’s jaw hangs open. “But swamps are cool!”

“Swamps are gross.” You swat another mosquito on your arm. “So what if your Dads are gone all the time? Pops is gone all day. I hardly see him.”

Torken shrugs. “Mom works nights but sleeps during the day.”

“My Mom works late but I get to hangout with Grandma and Grandpa and Maekit and Felida.” Simham pauses, “Well, not really Maekit.”

“I don’t care about your parents!” Khanie glares at you. “I especially don’t care about your spazz Dad!”

Once the words leave her lips, something lights in your stomach like a firecracker. Only you’re allowed to say terrible things about Pops. Not even Dmitry is allowed because Pops isn’t his.

You shove Khanie off the rocks. The girl falls over and hits the mud.

“Pops isn’t a spazz! My grandpa is!” you yell. Khanie slowly sits up, not looking at you. “Take it _back_!”

A handful of mud hits you in the chest. You stumble back and Khanie stands, glaring hatefully. “Your Dad is a dumb spazz! He dates _Karkat!_ Anyone who thinks Karkat is dateable is a spazz!”

“ _You’re_ the dumb spazz! That’s why your Dads left you here!”

Khanie gives you a look that makes you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. The tealblood tackles you with a banshee scream. Your head hits the mud and Khanie keeps shrieking, tugging at your hair and hitting your face.

“I hate you!” Khanie screams, “You suck, Suxxor!”

“ _You_ suck!” You seize her fingers in your mouth and bite down. Khanie shrieks and tries to push you away.

“Stop it! _Stop it!_ ” Simham frets. The oliveblood looks at his brother, “Torken, _do_ something!” 

“I’m not getting in the middle of that mess.” Torken says.

Simham huffs and stomps over. Before you can tell him to piss off, he slaps Khanie across the face. The teal girl lets go of you and you release her hand. Both of you stare at the oliveblood. You sit up; glad to have Khanie’s bulk off you. Khanie is on the ground again, touching her skin.

“You...” Khanie looks at him, slack-jawed. “...you _hit_ me, you stupid furry idiot!”

Simham doesn’t answer. He slaps Khanie again but its gentle. He sits in the dirt in front of the teal with his hand on her face. Wait. You’ve seen this before on TV, but you don’t know what it’s called.

“What are you doing?” Khanie asks.

Simham stares at her. “Um, I don’t--”

Tears fill Khanie’s eyes. “What are you _doing?_ ”

Simham doesn’t answer. You get off the ground, wiping off dirt. Your eye hurts and feels swollen.

Khanie sniffles and scrubs her eyes. “You’re dumb. And I hate you. And...and...” She hiccups.

You don’t know what to say or do, so you watch. Simham remains next to Khanie, looking equally clueless. Torken has a sympathetic look but you don’t know who it’s for.

Then Simham suddenly stands, with his pupils shrunken. He brushes the dust off his onesie and looks at Torken. “Torken. Dad’s calling.”

“Aww, man. Seriously?” Torken groans. When Simham nods, the brownblood looks at you. “Sorry, guys. If we don’t show up when Dad starts looking, he gets annoyed.”

Considering how big and scary Torken and Simham’s Dad is, you would avoid getting on his bad side too. “How do you know he’s right?”

Torken is already walking back to the road. “He’s got a sixth sense about Dad.”

Simham follows after him. “My ears are just better cause I’m older.”

“Yeah, right.” Torken laughs.

Khanie snickers. The tears are gone but there are still obvious trails down her face. You start to laugh too at the idea of Simham being older; the oliveblood is far too short and wimpy, unlike his cool-as-ice brother.

When you leave the forested swamp, the sky is turning orange-yellow. As beautiful as the color is, your heart sinks. There’s no way you can sneak back to the trailer unnoticed. Your only hope is that Dmitry and Momeju had another fight that makes your shenanigans look better by comparison.

You look down the road and see Simham was correct. Torken and his father is standing in the road, calling their name. You’ve never spoken to Torken and Simham’s father, but you’ve heard stories about him. Well, you know the stories Maekit tells: that he went to jail for murdering ten people when he was just a year old and the only reason they let him out was because he was a danger to the other prisoners. She says the same thing about her purpleblood father.

Maekit always lies but you wouldn’t put it past a purple to murder ten people. Or eat them. Or eat _kids._

Karkat is also standing next to Torken and Simham’s father, but who cares about him? Definitely not you.

“ _Khanie_! There you are!” Karkat then looks at Khanie and you and slaps his forehead. “What in the hell happened to your clothes? Oh gods. Did you two play in the swamp? I’ve told a thousand times not to play in the swamp!”

You stick out your tongue at Karkat. “ _You_ never told me.”

“I know your Dad did. You’re not dressed to play there!” Karkat points to Torken and Simham’s high rubber boots and then at Khanie’s sneakers and your sandals. “Gods. You’re going to be _riddled_ with parasites!”

“Calm down, dude.” Torken’s Dad says. “Kids have a pretty strong immune system.”

“I’ve had ringworm twice!” Simham says.

“And you wonder why you’re not allowed to wear my clothes?” Torken grumbles.

“They’re still in trouble.” Karkat looks at Khanie. “Especially you. You’re grounded.”

“You don’t have grounding power!” Khanie has bounced from sad to loudmouthed.

“No, but your fathers do.” Karkat seizes Khanie’s hand and looks at you. “You too, Suxxor. Your Mom has to be worried sick.”

You’re not looking forward to being chewed out but you follow. You’re too tired, hungry, and itchy to run. When you get to your trailer, Mom is outside talking to Pops. Mom sees you and runs over.

“Suxxor! You had me worried sick!” Mom then sees your clothes. “What happened to your _clothes_?”

“It’s Khanie’s fault!” you say immediately.

“Like hell it is, Captor!” Khanie goes to the ground to pick up rocks, but Karkat grabs her. He picks up the tealblood girl, who immediately starts shrieking. “Put me down! _Put me down, you dumb jerk!_ ”

“They went in the swamp. Better scrub him before you hug him.” Karkat says between grunts, “Khanie, stop hitting!”

“No! Put me down _now_!” Khanie yells.

“Good luck with that one, KK.” Pops says, smirking.

Karkat rolls his eyes. He walks away, ignoring her screaming. Once Karkat is out of sight, Pops fixes you with the Look of Doom.

“ _You_.” Pops says, “You are taking a bath, changing your clothes, and then you’re going to get acquainted with your room because you’re grounded.”

You’d like to point out how you defended your father’s honor from Khanie (although you weren’t supposed to be outside in the first place) but the Look of Doom can’t be argued with. You slink inside the trailer, following your mother. Dmitry watches you from the couch with a smirk.

Mom scrubs you with stinging powder. He insists on washing your hair and combing for bugs. You run away once but there’s few places to hide in the trailer. Then you have to change your clothes. Tomorrow is laundry day so your only clean clothes you have are your pajamas.

Then you get sent to your room with nothing to do. No TV. No games. Nothing! All you have are the boring books your Mom keeps trying to get you to read and your playing cards. You’re bored enough to play solitaire. While you’re matching cards, you hear your parents arguing. You don’t care because they do that every night. Out in the living room, Dmitry turns up the TV over the noise.  

Eventually Pops comes into your room. You keep playing solitaire because you’re a lecture.

“Alright, you.” Pops sits on the floor next to you. “What were you thinking running off to the swamp? You weren’t supposed to be out of the trailer and I usually have to twist your arm just to make you go outside.” 

You shrug. “I dunno.”

“Mind explaining how you got that shiner?”

Shiner? You find one of Dmitry’s compacts and look at yourself. Your eye is bruised and there are bites and scratches from Khanie.

“Me and Khanie got into a fight.” You grumble, tossing away the compact.

“Again?” Pops isn’t giving you the Look of Doom anymore. He’s still angry but some of the edge has been taken off. “You never got into a fight like this before.”

“She got weird.” You grunt, “She started talking about her Dads being gone all the time. I don’t care. You’re gone all the time and I’m not a dumb jerk like her. Then she called you and Grandpa a spazz and I got mad and…” You shrug, gesturing to your bruises. “Simham slapped her but it got weird and Khanie started crying.”

Pops sighs. “Gods, that _kid_...” He rubs his chin, “Okay. I’m proud of you for defending the family, but you can’t solve your problems by fighting.”

“She started it!” Suxxor says, “She was hiding in my room!”

“Yeah, that sounds like her...” Your father sighs. He pats you on the head. “You’re still grounded, but maybe not as long as I first planned.”

You smile. “Can I get a TV in my room?”

“Absolutely not.”

Damn. Worth a try.

Pops pats you on the head. “You have to _earn_ a TV, kiddo. If you get one now, you’d just sit in here watching garbage all day.”

“Kempie gets to sit inside and watch garbage all day!”

Pops raises an eyebrow. “I’m _sure_ you don’t want to be like Kempie.”

You hunch your shoulders but he’s right. Khanie calls you a grubby baby but Kempie is the _king_ of grubby babies. You’re not giving up on the TV though. You’ll just have to find a new angle.


	3. a lot of angry in a small package

**== >Suxxor: Be Karkat a few minutes into the past**

Once you have Khanie under your arms and off the ground, she’s trapped. She kicks and screams like a banshee but the neighbors are beyond questioning why you’re carrying a screaming kit. After two minutes, Khanie goes limp but steadily growls.

“I hope you realize we’re both going to have to get checked for parasites because of your bullshit.” You say.  

“Good!” Khanie growls.

“ _Neither_ of us want parasites.” You’ve avoided another parasite outbreak in the trailer, but your good luck won’t last forever.

“I’d like parasites more than _you_.” Khanie huffs.

You count to ten and remind yourself that Khanie only knows emotional extremes. You stop walking and put the teal kit on the ground. Khanie tries to bolt but you grab her shirt collar.

“Listen,” you say, “Being left behind sucks, but your Dads might bring you along one day...but _not_ if you act like this when they’re away.  

Khanie snaps her teeth. “I don’t care what you say. I’m the Khan. _Nobody_ tells me what to do.”

“Your Dads do.” You say.

“You’re not one of them!”

“I’m not your father but I’m responsible for you.” You poke Khanie in the chest. “Even a Khan has to be obey their god. I created you.”

Saying it out loud is silly but you have to go by child logic, but part of it is the truth: you did have a hand in her creation.

“We don’t have to like each other,” you continue, “but we have to get along.” Still holding onto Khanie, you continue walking. “Just...behave for tomorrow okay? You’ll be meeting Arthat.”

“That’s a stupid name.”

That’s up for debate considering the names you heard in school. “He’s my son.” You stop yourself before add _And your half-brother._ “He’s going to be staying with me for the summer. This is the first time he’ll be here...I was hoping you two could be friends.”

“If he’s your son, he’s stupid like Kempie.”

“Kempie isn’t stupid.” You say, “and you shouldn’t say that. He’s nice.”

“Kempie is a fat, whiny baby.”

You think Khanie is the last person who should be throwing around the ‘fat’ label. She’s going to be chubby teenager, but you don’t say a word. You don’t want to be the dickbag that gives her a complex down the road about her weight.

When you get within sight of the trailer, you see Dirk and Jake’s truck in the driveway. Your heart leaps in relief. Khanie squeals and kicks you in the shin so you let go of her hand. You curse as your (biological) daughter runs to Jake. Jake smiles and picks her up. He’s bruised and stained with lusus blood, but he never hesitates to pick up his (legal) daughter.

“How’s my little dragonfly?” Jake asks.

Khanie smiles widely, like she never does for you. “I conquered everybody!” 

Dirk looks at you as you walk over. “Karkat, you look like you’ve been through a war.”

“Your daughter _is_ a war.” You say.

“Is that why you’re dirty?” Jake asks Khanie.

“Going in the swamp was Suxxor’s idea!” Khanie insists.

Dirk groans. “What is with you kids and playing in _swamps_? There are two parks!”

Khanie sticks out her tongue. “Parks are dumb.”

“She ran off and then Suxxor and her went for an adventure with Gamzee’s spawn. Have fun with the parasites.” You go to the door, officially retiring from your position as babysitter for the evening.

The trailer door is open and a fan is whirring, blowing on Dave as he lies on the couch. The TV is showing a cartoon so Nessie must be awake, because otherwise Dave would be watching trash TV.

“I assume you found the little monster.” Dave says, not moving.

“In the swamp and she’s not a little monster.” You take off your sandals at the door so you don’t track dirt through the trailer and go the bathroom to wash your hands. When you dry off your hands, you return to the living room. “At least, she’s not a little monster _all_ the time.” you continue.

“Don’t worry, Karkat. In a few minutes we’ll hear Khanie throw the traditional Vantas tantrum.” Dave says.  

“Khanie’s a Pyrope.” You say, sitting next to him. “Wait. She’s an English. Or a Strider. Or an English-Strider. Whatever.” You exhale, “Thank gods she doesn’t know the truth yet. She’d scream.”  

“ _Everything_ makes that girl scream...” Jade says from the kitchen over the sound of something sizzling in the frying pan. You don’t care what it is. A year has made you tolerate Jade’s grossest healthy recipes.

“Like ours is different?” Dave snorts.

“Where _is_ Nessie?” You always get nervous talking about Khanie’s parentage around her. You’re still scared she’ll repeat something.

“Hide and go seek.” Dave says.

“You’re not seeking.” You frown. “Dave, are you playing hide and go seek and just letting your daughter hide for hours?”

Dave smiles. “I’m not the one playing.”

“ _Rar_!” Nessie pops out from under the couch, laughing. Then she climbs into your lap. “Hi, Kat.”

Nessie struggles to pronounce your name, so she’s shortened it to “Kitty” or “Kat” or “Katda”. You think “Katda” is your official title since Nessie doesn’t completely understand the concept of uncles and aunts.

You pat Nessie on the head. “Hey, Nessie. Did you wait under the couch for me?”

“Yes!” Nessie laughs, “Where’s Arthat?”

“He’s coming tomorrow.” Out of everyone, Nessie is the only one who’s excited to have a visitor.

“Is Arthat nice?” Nessie asks.

“Um. He...” You can’t put Arthat in ‘nice’ or ‘mean’ category because he belongs the Serket category. Still, you can’t explain that to a one year old. “He’s...shy.”

“’Shy’ like Vriska?” Dave snorts.

“Sort of. He can be nice, but he’s also really smart.”

“Is he a clown?” Nessie asks.

“No, Nessie. For the fifth time, Arthat is a _not_ a clown.” You sigh. There’s no way in hell you’re having a purpleblood grub in your home. Having Astrid is frightening enough.

“Oh.” Nessie looks at Dave. “Birthday clown?”

Dave pales. “Uh. We’ll see.

“I want three clowns!” Nessie climbs from your lap and onto Dave’s.

You start laughing because of the horror on Dave’s face. You think his hatred of clowns fuels Nessie’s love. Her bedroom is a hellish landscape of greasepaint faces, colorful smiles, and bulbous noses alongside Cirque du Soleil acrobats.

“Dinner is done.” Jade pokes her head in the living room, “Nessie why don’t we take you to the circus?”

Nessie smiles. “I wanna ride a big lusus! And see the elephants and clowns and...”

“Uh. Sure. Why not?” Dave says, patient as always. Nessie always has a mountain of requests—most of which are nonsense.  

Nessie isn’t what you imagined a human child would be, but she is certainly a child of Harley and Strider. She spends dinner talking about how she dragged Dave all over the yard looking for things to add to her collection. After the meal, the girl insists on showing you her latest findings. Nessie’s prized collection are two shoeboxes of things she deems ‘interesting’: mouse bones, snake skin, shiny rocks and pebbles, seashells, and dried wildflowers. Once Nessie is done bragging about her finds, she falls asleep. You’re glad her body dictates nap time because it’s a pain to make her. You place her on her bed and shut the door.

You go into the bedroom and find Jade is lying on the bed reading. Dave is in ‘the zone’ editing his footage for his Monday assignment.

You sit next to Jade. “How does Nessie find half that stuff?”

“Nessie has excellent vision for someone her age.” Jade says, not looking up from her copy of _Managing Chronic Pain in Children._ “Do you know Nessie can see almost perfectly underwater?” When you stare at her, Jade adds, “Humans typically don’t.”

“Oh.” You pause, “Really? Like, if the water is dark?”

Jade launches into a long diatribe about the shape of human eyes versus troll eyes and how light refracts underwater. You tune out most of it until she concludes with “Lifelong divers don’t have the problems of underwater vision though and Nessie’s eyes are adapted that way.”

“That’s…neat.” You say, half-understanding the importance of her latest discovery. “Hey, thanks for letting Arthat stay here. I know you were on the fence because Khanie can be...well, _herself_. Just, thanks.”

Jade raises an eyebrow. “I was never worried about Arthat or Khanie being around Nessie.”

“Really? But you don’t like Khanie.”

“Because Khanie is a little shit!” Jade laughs, “I hate dealing with her. Nessie doesn’t care. Her first instinct is to fight.”

That’s true. Nessie never hesitates to hit Khanie and only cries if she gets in over her head. You’re not looking forward to when they’re older and stronger.

“Karkat,” Jade says and she has a serious look on her face, “you shouldn’t use me as an excuse to call this off. You’re going to do fine.”

Considering how things went today, you doubt that. “I can barely control Khanie...”

Dave slips off the headphones. “I don’t know much about Serkets but I doubt Vriska would have a kid like Khanie.”

“Are you done?” you ask.

“Footage is compiling, but yeah, basically done.” Dave sits next to you.  “Karkat, quit worrying. Khanie’s not going to hate you forever. Doesn’t Kempie like you?”

“Kempie likes _everyone_ ,” you sigh, “and he’s not my son. He’s my half-brother. Or...half nephew. Gods, the family tree is such a mess.” Then you have a horrible thought, “Oh gods. What if Arthat has to do a family tree? There’s no way I can tell him about my father and grandfather!”

“Okay, you need a take a deep breath.” Dave says. You do and he says, “Karkat, you know schools don’t ask students to do family tree assignments. You’re not the _only_ troll with a complicated history.”

“Just enjoy it, Karkat.” Jade says, “You’re transforming from Weekend Dad to Fulltime Dad.”

Even hearing ‘Fulltime Dad’ aloud is weird, but you force back your fears.

You spend the rest of the night watching TV. You’re half-way through _Wait Til Your Ancestor Gets Home_ when you get a text.  

 

\--twinArmageddons[TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist[CG]!--

TA: hey.

 

Oh fuck no. There’s no way you can put up with this shit now.  

 

CG: OH HEY. HOW ARE THINGS?

TA: nothiing new. 2uxxor ha2 para2iite2 becau2e of fuckiing cour2e he doe2, 2o ii’m up wiith hiim becau2e ed ha2 work.

CG: HE’S SHOWING SYMPTOMS ALREADY?

TA: hii2 body ii2 tiiny and hii2 iimmune 2y2tem ii2 terriible becau2e he never eat2 hii2 damn vegetable2.

TA: how’2 khaniie?

CG: WITH HER DADS BUT I DOUBT SHE’LL GET SICK. GIRL IS BUILT LIKE AN OX. SHE SCRAPED HER ENTIRE LEG AND GOT BACK UP. DIDN’T EVEN *PRETEND* TO GIVE A SHIT ABOUT IT.

TA: ii remember that. there wa2 blood all over the pavement. ii thought a2triid kiilled another po22um.

CG: OH GODS. DON’T EVEN REMIND ME OF THAT NIGHTMARE ACROSS THE STREET. SOMETIMES I SEE HER LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW AT NIGHT. I SWEAR, SHE LOOKS AT US LIKE WE’RE HER NEXT MEAL.

TA: doe2 a2triid...talk? liike, at all?

CG: ACCORDING TO KANKRI, ASTRID TALKS TO HIM. HE SAYS SHE’S ‘SHY’. I SAY THAT KARCIN IS SHY AND ASTRID IS A BUDDING SOCIOPATH LIKE HER GRANDFATHER. I BET SHE’S DOING HIS STYLE OF ‘PAINTING’.

TA: ii thiink ii got off liight when iit come2 two weiird relatiive2.

TA: 2o.

TA: are we gonna talk about what happened?

CG: SOLLUX, I...CAN WE NOT? CAN’T WE PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED AND MOVE ON?

TA: ii don’t thiink we 2hould. ii don’t thiink you’re avoiidiing thii2 ju2t becau2e iit wa2 embarra22iing but becau2e iit made you

CG: THOSE ARE THE SAME THING.

TA: they are not.

CG: SOLLUX, IT’S TOO LATE TO TALK ABOUT THIS. I HAVE TO WAKE UP EARLY.

TA: fiine.

 

You don’t need to hear your matesprit’s voice to know he’s annoyed, but there’s no way you’re talking about what happened.


	4. the scorpion son

4: the scorpion son

 

You leave the trailer at the asscrack of dawn because Vriska’s flight is at seven and her purpose in life is to make yours as inconvenient as possible. Running only on a cup of coffee, you drive to her penthouse in East New Jack. Your heart is pounding, your legs feel like gelatin, but you steady yourself. _Get a fucking grip, Karkat,_ you tell yourself. This is nothing compared to the Cherubs trying to murder you and everyone in your neighborhood.

You ring Vriska--well, Hercuba’s—doorbell. Your heart pounds hard until it opens. A kit looks up at you and it amazes you how much he looks like Vriska. He has her face, pointed ears, and wavy black hair. The only hint of your ancestry are the short, rounded ceruleanblood horns.

“Hey, son.” You say.

“Ugh. _Vous_.” Arthat rolls his eyes and retreats inside.

The suite is clean as always and Hecuba isn’t present. Arthat sits on the couch and Snippy climbs into his lap. He strokes the lusus and doesn’t look at you.

“Looks like Snippy’s getting bigger.” You say, “Is he excited to come stay with me?”

“Non,” Arthat says, “Monsieur Snippy est used to le finest. Il doesn’t want to live in vous dirt hovel.”

“You’ve never even seen where I live.” You point out.

Arthat looks you up and down and wrinkles his nose. He is wearing a shirt and pants equal to two of your paychecks, while you’re in jeans and a T-shirt.

“Je don’t have to go there. Je can look at vous et imagine where vous live.” He says with a sniff.

 _You are so full of shit I’m surprised you’re not choking._ As badly as you want to say it, you hold back. You go to your calm place and count to ten. She’s dressed casually, or as casual as a model can be.

Vriska walks over and presses a business card into your hand. “This is my number at the hotel. They should speak English. If not, just hit up a translator. Emergencies only though. Anything less major, just call Aranea.”

The card says the hotel is in some city you can’t pronounce. “Just Aranea?”

“Just her.” Vriska points to the bags.  “One for Arthat and the other’s for Snippy.” She smiles at Arthat. “Alright, I’m heading out. Have fun with Karkat.”

Arthat gets off the couch and hugs Vriska. She pats him on the head and just as quickly, the boy pulls away. He picks up Snippy with one arm and grabs his bag with the other.

“Let’s leave already.” Arthat mumbles.

Oh, this is shaping up for a _lovely_ start. You grab Snippy’s bag and leave the suite with Arthat following. You constantly check on him, afraid that he’s going to bolt like Khanie does _,_ but Arthat remains next to you. He holds onto Snippy like a precious stuffed animal. Arthat gets into the car without complaint and buckles in without you having to ask.

Arthat looks out the window as you leave East New Jack. You’re not one for awkward silences so you speak first.

“So, this is a first.” You say, “Us hanging out and it isn’t even a weekend! Unless there’s a weird time-space thing and the weekend goes on for several months.” You laugh at your half-attempted joke. Arthat doesn’t.

“Vous only come when vous remember.” Arthat grumbles.

 _That is some bullshit,_ but you can’t rage at your son. “I just get busy. Your Mom gets busy too.”

“Je don’t care about elle.” Arthat says, “He have Monsieur Snippy. Il est _never_ busy.”

“Of course he’s not. He’s an _animal_.” You snort.

Arthat gives you the a poisonous look. “Il est not just an animal, vous crétin! Il’s perfect! Vous’re just jealous of il!”

“Okay. Sorry. Jeez.” Arthat scowls and looks out the window. “Hey, this is new for me too. I know I haven’t been the perfect Dad but give my housemates a chance. There’ll be kids for you to play with. I know you want that.”

You have no idea if Arthat wants that. You know there aren’t other children for Arthat at the penthouse. You asked Vriska to tell you Arthat’s interests but even she wasn’t sure. According to her, Arthat prefers to quietly read or watch documentaries, but that’s only when she’s around. Now that Arthat is molted, she spends most of her time at work.

Definitely mother of the year right there.

The weather mimics Arthat’s mood as the sky darkens and rain starts pouring. The environment casts the Ninth Ward in an all consuming gloom as the lawns and roads turn muddy. Arthat remains silent until you pull up to your driveway.

“Vous live in a shack.” Arthat says, “If je lived here, je would storm city hall demanding better living conditions.”

“This place may not be a chateau but it’s home.” You park Jade’s car and turn off the engine. “When you go in, try to be nice.”

“’Nice’ est subjective. Je will be myself.”

You hope that Arthat’s personality won’t cause any major upsets in your home. You loan Arthat the spare umbrella while you unload Snippy and his bags from the trunk. Arthat takes his bag immediately and gets Snippy, as if he’s afraid your touch will contaminate them. You open the front door and the Strider-Harley family is already awake. Dave and Jade are watching TV and Nessie is on the floor nuzzling Sonny Jr.

“We’re here.” you say.

Arthat’s eyes dart around the trailer before looking at you. “Vous live with humans.” He says, “Vous are a milkhead? Disgusting.”

You have several questions. The first is how the hell does Arthat know that word and the second is who Vriska has him hanging around. Oh gods. What if he spends all his time on the internet? What if he’s found Urban Dictionary?

“They’re my _friends_.” You say, trying not to growl.

“Je am so sure.” Arthat walks over to Dave and Jade. He observes them like a documentarian would a newly discovered species. “Et que do vous deux do for a living? Wait, let moi guess. Vous are”—he points to Dave—“unemployed student and leeching off her”—he points to Jade—“le breadwinner in le relationship.”

Jade looks at you. “Am I have a stroke or is he...very French?” she asks.

“Is this kid _real_?” Dave has a stupid grin on his face like he just found out he was on a prank show.

“Arthat, that’s _rude_.” You say, “This is Dave and Jade. They’re my friends.”

“For the record, Karkat _is_ a milkhead.” Dave says.

“ _Dave_.” You growl.

“Je knew it.” Arthat looks at you smirking, “Je should see how il eyes le inhabitants of le penthouse. Hungry. Like watching a cat see a mouse.”

“That’s not true!” At least, it’s not entirely true. The only penthouse person you’ve been eying was Vriska’ neighbor and that’s because he insisted on prancing around in only boxers and showing off his abs whenever you’re around.

Nessie stands and you’re terrified about her asking what a milkhead is. Instead, she walks over to Arthat with a big smile. “I’m Nessie!” she says.

“Que...” Arthat stares at Nessie, confused, “...que are _vous_?”

“A Strider.” Nessie giggles.

That answer doesn’t satisfy Arthat. Before he can demand if Nessie is a human or a troll, you quickly say, “She’s my friend’s daughter and _very_ _nice_.” You emphasize the latter so Arthat knows that if he upsets Nessie, you’ll come down on him like a ton of bricks. You give Nessie a sweet smile. “Nessie, why don’t you show Arthat where he’s staying?”

Nessie has already taken Arthat’s hand and yanked the boy away, a feat only accomplished because Arthat is rail thin and Nessie stocky. Arthat stumbles after her as they leave for the bedroom.  

“Seems like Nessie’s going to be learning some new words.” Dave snorts.

“I swear to gods, I didn’t know he’d say that.” you say.

“I leave Dave to the task of _explaining_ those words.” Jade says, “How long is Arthat going to be staying again...?”

“Until the first week of September.” You don’t want to mention that you have no idea when Vriska is returning. That will only make things worse. “He’s not going to be here all the time though. He’s splitting his time between me and Aranea.”

“Je have several questions.” Arthat marches back into the room holding Snippy. “Vous expect moi to share a room with a _baby whatever-it est_?”

“Nessie is a human toddler and she’s well behaved.” Well, most of the time Nessie is well behaved.

“Je doubt _that_.” Arthat snorts, “Que next? Vous expect moi to sleep in a hammock? To swing in a dirty tire vous tied to a tree?”

“Hey, tire swings can be fun...”

“Vous may have le tastes of a ruste but je will not tolerate it!” Arthat digs his nails into Snippy’s back. “Je expect me to live like vous? Vous have no idea— _ow_!”

Snippy has seized Arthat’s pinky in its claw. Arthat curses and the lusus releases it. When the lusus lets him go, Arthat looks sheepish.

“Oui, fine...” Arthat glares at you. He’s angry but calmer than he was a few minutes ago. “Que other surprises do vous have in store?”

“Nothing right now.” You look at Arthat’s finger, which is a little cerulean. “Do you want an ice pack?”

“Je vais bien.” Arthat growls.

Jade stands. “Then what about breakfast?”

“I wanna help!” Nessie stumbles into the living room, covered with stickers and glitter glue.

“What happened there?” You ask Arthat.

“Arthat said he would be in my fashion show but I had to make designs.” Nessie holds up a piece of paper smeared with glitter glue and marker. “See? Do you like it, Karkat?”

“Yes, it’s very pretty.” You lie, but you’re not going to tell a one year old anything else.

Dave immediately stands. He’s been trying to keep the glitter contamination to a minimum. “Okay, we’re going to de-glue you before you before you touch any food.”

“Nooo, my design!” Nessie runs before Dave can grab her.

Dave chases after her. “Nessie, stay out of our bedroom!”

You help Jade with breakfast while Dave hunts his daughter. There’s a lot of shouting and the sound of a bed being moved, but Dave scrubs the glitter off Nessie. She’s not pleased, but quickly forgets the matter during breakfast. You’re glad for her one-year-old attention span.

Arthat sits at the table and stares at the food on his plate. He pokes the grits with his fork. “Quel est this?”

“Grits.” You say, “What do you usually eat?” Then you remember Arthat spends most of his time with a lusus, “Wait, who cooks in your house?”

Arthat scowls. “Pourquoi would vous eat something called ‘grits’? Que est it _from_?”

You want to give a snide answer, but you honestly don’t know where grits are from. It’s always come from the supermarket, as far as you know. “Wheat?” You ask, looking at Dave. Dave shrugs.

“Grits is boiled, ground up corn.” Jade says, “It’s the same thing as hominy and polenta.”

“I thought hominy was beans?” Dave asks.

“Wait, what’s polenta?” you ask.

Jade groans. “Do you guys not known _anything_ about where your food comes from? No wonder obesity is such a problem in this city…”

“Je’ll say.” Arthat grunts and he only eats the toast that comes with his breakfast. Nessie is more than willing to eat his portion and you have to make sure she doesn’t, as she’s a ravenous little monster.

After breakfast, Nessie runs outside with Sonny Jr. following. You don’t mind Sonny Jr. favoring the kid as he protects her with the same loyalty Bec does for Jade. Plus, a little kid is just what he needs when you’re too tired to help him burn off his energy.

Arthat goes to the bedroom. When you go to check on him, Arthat is sitting on the bed you’ve placed for him in the corner, reading from a thick book. Snippy sits in his lap. You sit on the bed and although it tilts from your weight, Arthat doesn’t comment. He’s absorbed in his reading.

“You could have told me what you wanted to eat.” You say. “I would have made you something else.”

“Je don’t care. Je doubt vous could cook at all.” Arthat says, his eyes on the book, “For le record, je do not eat meat. Je have no interest in blowing up like les balloons in this neighborhood.”

“Don’t talk about people like that.” You say. Arthat doesn’t respond. “What are you reading?” You change the subject, trying to maintain your civility.

“Le Hunchback of Notre Dame.” Arthat growls with shrinking patience.

“Oh, really? I never read the book. Just saw the movie...”

“Let je guess: le Disney one?” When you laugh, Arthat puts down the book. “Que do vous want et que must je do to get vous to leave?”

“I just want to get to know you.” Anger is creeping into your voice but you don’t care. You’re sick of his attitude. “You’re not even giving me a... _chance_.”

“I want to read.”

“You’re not staying inside all day, Arthat.” You stand and open the blinds. Arthat hisses and covers his eyes. “It’s a beautiful day out! Don’t you want to go biking or rollerblading?”

“Je do not have a bike.” Arthat grunts.

“Seriously?” When Arthat doesn’t answer, you continue, “You live in the suburbs. You should be all about biking. You actually _have_ bike trails and less chance of being mugged.”

Arthat looks away but his cheeks have a cerulean tinge. “Je...don’t know how.”

“What?”

“Bikes are stupid!” Arthat insists, “Why ride a bike when vous can take le bus?”

“Exercise, of course.” You take Arthat’s hand. “I’m sure Kankri has a spare bike we can borrow.”

Arthat doesn’t move from the bed. “If je do this, will vous let moi read without disturbance?”

You nod. You guess it’s the only way you’re getting Arthat outside without a huge fight. Arthat shakes his hand out of your grip and takes out a collar from his luggage bag. He fits it around Snippy and looks at you.

“Let’s go.” He grunts.

You frown at the lusus. “You’re bringing Snippy?”

“Il goes or je don’t.”

It’s not ideal but your bad mood evaporates when you step outside. The air smells of cut grass and grills warming for lunchtime. Arthat scowls and seems to view his surroundings with distaste. You walk across the street just as Kankri and Kempie step out the door.

“Hey, Kankri.” You say. You walk over and look at Arthat, “Arthat, this is your...Uncle Kankri and your cousin Kempie.” It’s the simplest way to put your complicated family history.

Arthat and Kempie look at each other, making their judgments. Kempie doesn’t hide behind Kankri but you notice his grip on his father’s hand tightens.

“Where are you two headed?” You ask.

“I’m taking Kempie to the museum.” Kankri says.

Kempie pulls out a newsletter from his pocket and shows it to you. “It’s the Germanium Cultural Festival! There’s going to be food, cooking lessons, music...”

“I’m reviewing it for the newspaper.” Kankri adds, “What are you doing, Karkat?”

“I was wondering if we could borrow a bike...” you say but then you look at Arthat. The ceruleanblood’s eyes are on the newsletter. He actually looks interested. “But this sounds a lot more fun. You mind if we tag along?”

“Of course it’s alright! We love company.” Kankri then looks at Arthat. “Though, I’m not sure how interested Arthat is in Germanium culture.”

“C’est fine.” Arthat say, “C’est better than riding a stupid bike.”

Kankri smiles. “If you say so.”

The car ride to the museum is awkward. Arthat and you are quiet while Kankri and Kempie talk about everything under the sun, from the weather to future activities at the museum.

Going to the museum sends a wave of nostalgia through you. The last time you were here was a sophomore year field trip about the Great War. Now the exhibit halls are decorated with the green and white of the Germanium flag. Museum volunteers are dressed in traditional Germanium clothes, greeting people in Germanish outside the cultural pavilion. You pay the museum fee and buy a ticket for the raffle, which gets you a bag of free museum swag. Most of it are cheap bookmarks and thin books talking about the history of Germanium, but hey, free is free.

The pavilion is full of booths offering different activities and selling Germanium toys and food. Kempie and Arthat sit with the other kids in front of a booth speaking about Germanium folklore.

Kankri and you sit on a bench under a colorful display of _Germanium History for Kids._

“Why is the museum having a Germanium cultural festival?” You ask, “Aren’t most New Jack immigrants from Leder and Trussia?”

“Actually, New Jack has a relatively small amount of immigrants compared to most city-states.” Kankri answers. The mutantblood doesn’t look up from the notebook he’s writing in. “Most immigrants view this as a ‘drop-off’ point and tend to live in more lucrative cities like Midway or Dadlas.”

You don’t have any opinion on other cultures. You _could_ do without the annoyingly loud Germanium music that sounds like someone jammed a tuba in a whale’s asshole. “So what’s the point of this festival?”

“It’s a method to counterattack the outburst of anti-Germanium violence.” Kankri continues, “The city council wants to revamp New Jack’s image as a cesspool of gun violence to that of Eastern culture.”

You smirk. “Well, call me an idiot for thinking you were writing a nice fluff piece.”

Kankri rolls his eyes. “Fluff is for idiots who don’t have the brain power to do anything better. My purpose is to document New Jack culture and this year is going to predict what happens in the next.” When you don’t have anything to contribute, Kankri looks at you. “The mayoral election is next year and RR is on the chopping block. I suspect the city councilmember that pushed this event is going to run.”

“I thought there were more steps before you could become mayor?”

Kankri laughs. “Oh, _please_ , Karkat. This is politics. Steps are arbitrary when you know the right people.”

Gods, you hate dealing with Kankri when he’s smug.

“How’s Terezi?” you ask.

Kankri pauses in his writing. Then he stands and gestures for you to follow. You take one last glance at the boys before following.

Kankri and you leave the cultural pavilion, heading into the hall and stand near the restrooms. It’s the perfect place as everyone is distracted.

“I’m concerned.” Kankri says, “She’s spending more hours at the office. I worry about her burning out.”

“So DynamiCHEM isn’t going to settle?” you ask.

Kankri shakes his head. “It’s not just that.”

You swallow. You had hoped this DynamiCHEM mess would settle out of court, but life never takes the easy route. “What happened?”

Kankri sighs. “Barrat Farren & Webber were going for a settlement but they did more digging. Most M&N employees moved: Tedrow, Winder, Coosada, Vanleer...states with better health insurance. Since they moved, they weren’t on the registry they initially looked at. M&N made sure to bury their previous employee lists. Can’t get them without a warrant.”

You frown, seeing the pattern. “So BF&W are going full-blown class action lawsuit?”

“Yes,” Kankri says, “and if they find out that these policies were in other businesses belonging to DynamiCHEM, this could get messier.”

Apparently Terezi stepped on a snake only to uncover a nest. You check the area around you but no one is paying you attention.

“How’s DyanmiCHEM taking this?”

Kankri says, “There’s rumblings that they may relocate their offices if this goes through--”

“ _What_?” Your voice startles a carapace woman and her child as they leave the bathroom. You lower your voice. “That’s crazy!” You say, making sure your voice is low, “DynamiCHEM _built_ New Jack. They can’t just pull out.”

“It’s just talk, Karkat. There’s nothing to back it.” Kankri shrugs. “New Jack is mismanaged but it’s not broke. Other industries will come.”

You hope that your moirail knows what she’s doing. One can’t go up against a giant like DynamiCHEM and escaped unscathed. You’re proud of her, yet miserable for not having as much time with her.

“How are things with Arthat, by the way?” Kankri asks, “Terezi told me you were a mess about this situation.”

“I wasn’t a mess!” you insist. Kankri just smiles patiently and you grumble, “We’re still getting used to each other. How’s Astrid?”

Kankri starts to walk back to the cultural pavilion. “She’s fine. She’s with Kurloz for the day. She needs to spend time with her father.”

You follow him. “I’m surprised Kurloz agreed to that.”

“It took some convincing but he has a soft spot for his girls.”

It’s only then you realize Kurloz has only daughters. You’d swear he was doing it on purpose if there had been more forethought in their conceptions.

When you return to the pavilion, Kempie runs over holding a small cardboard box. “Daddy, I made you an Uraneval mask!”

“Really? Let me see.” Kankri chuckles.

Kempie opens the box. Inside are two plastic half-masks decorated with beads and feathers. Glue is everywhere and odds are that it would stick to the wearer’s face. Kempie prattles on about the Geranium festival of Uraneval and how similar it was to Mirth Gras.

“Kempie, this is so sweet! I’ll treasure it.” Kankri picks up his son and kisses the small mutantblood on the cheek. Kempie laughs and hugs his father.

You want to gag and dump something cold and slimy on both of them. You look around the pavilion for Arthat, but don’t see him.

“Kempie...where’s Arthat?” you ask.

“Huh? Oh, uh…” Kempie blushes, “He left. He said he was bored and I tried to tell him to wait but he went anyway...”

Fan-fucking-tastic. You’ve had your son for a day and you’ve already lost him. You walk around the pavilion, calling Arthat’s name, but he doesn’t show. He’s not in the bathrooms or the entrance. Kankri and Kempie follow you, observing slide into a paternal meltdown. 

“I have to find him! Vriska would kill me if I lost him!” you say.

Kankri touches your shoulder. “Karkat, take a deep breath.” You glare at him. “Vriska isn’t the one you need to worry about. _You’re_ in charge.”

“But he could be scared and lost!” you say.

“That child? _Please_.” Kankri folds his arms. “Karkat, you used to run off all the time. Just think like you would back then.”

“How is that going to help?”

Kankri smirks. “He’s your _son_.”

That is an undeniable fact: Arthat is definitely our son. You wandered from your parents when you were bored and no one was paying attention to you. Kempie said Arthat was bored and you doubt he would leave the museum, so something else must have taken his interest.

You study the museum map and find something that could have seized Arthat’s attention. You walk back into the pavilion, bypassing the displays, and heading to the fine art section. The loud Germanium folk music dies out, replaced by classical violin and piano. Kempie and Kankri follow as you walk past oil paintings and sculptures. You turn the corner and find Arthat sitting on a bench, looking at a painting while Snippy sits in his lap.

“Arthat!” you hiss.

Arthat glances at you. “Oh. Vous.”

“Yes, me!” you sit next to him. “Arthat, you can’t just walk off. This is a museum in the middle of the city. I was scared you were hurt.”

Arthat looks back at the painting. “Vous walked off without _moi_ permission. Je am only a child. Je could have been just as frightened as vous were.”

You take a deep breath and count to 10. “Don’t pull that...crap...with me.” you say, barely keeping a cap on your anger, “It was only for a...freaking...minute. You couldn’t wait for a _minute_?”

“Je was bored.” Arthat answers.

You take another deep breath. Any point you’re trying to make is being rebuffed by your son. Instead, you look at the painting that’s absorbing his attention.

The painting is of a jungle where humans first encounter the salamander tribes of the Canzian wilderness. There are also angels and the God of Blood and Haze lurking nearby because the fine arts love to confuse fantasy and reality.

Arthat continues looking at the painting and pretending you don’t exist. You leave the bench and approach Kankri. Kankri has been watching you and ignoring Kempie tugging on his hand.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“As ‘okay’ as it could be.” You snort, “Guess I’ll hang out here. You can go on.”

“Karkat…” Kankri sighs.

“It’s _fine_ , Kankri.” You insist.

Kankri shrugs. “Alright. We’re heading to the gift shop.”

When they leave you’re left alone with your son, who has no interest in conversation. When Arthat does move, it’s to observe the other art pieces. It’s a struggle not to think of the good time Kankri and Kempie are having. You even get desperate enough to swear off your promise of not spending your time on the iHusk and send a message. You have to talk to _someone_.  

 

\--carcinoGeneticist[CG] began trolling turntechGodhead[TG]!--

CG: STRIDER, I HAVE BEEN AT THE MUSEUM FOR AN HOUR NOW AND I’M SO BORED I WANT TO CHEW OFF MY FUCKING LEG.

TG: that kind of talk isnt fit for a queens ears

CG: WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

\--TG sent queenstriderandprincess.jpg!—

 

The image is of Dave wearing a tiara, feathered boa, and halter top. You assume the halter top is from Jade and his ‘costume night’. You hope none of the girls have touched it.

 

CG: WHY ARE YOU DRESSED LIKE THAT?

TG: because im the motherfucking queen son

CG: AND WHO IS THE KING?

TG: ben stiller

TG: fucking duh dude

CG: WHAT ARE JADE AND ME SUPPOSED TO BE?

TG: jade is my war general and youre my court mistress

CG: QUEENS DON’T HAVE COURT MISTRESSES.

TG: this one does

TG: you are totally the nell gwynn to my king charles the second

CG: BULLSHIT I’M NELL GWYN! SHE COULDN’T EVEN READ! I’M TOTALLY LOUISE DE KÉROUAILLE OR THE COUNTESS OF ORKNEY. AT LEAST THE COUNTESS OF ORKNEY GOT TO HAVE A REGULAR LIFE AND WASN’T FUCKING IGNORANT AND OH MY GODS WHY THE HELL AM I REMEMBERING THIS SHIT?!

TG: because jake and khanie love their father-daughter history and military channel bonding time

TG: i got the girls flipping between history channel and cartoon planet an hour for their fav shows so they dont bitch

CG: YOU’RE WATCHING KHANIE *AND* NESSIE? AND KHANIE’S NOT GIVING YOU HELL?

TG: khanie never gives me hell im way too chill for it

CG: I’M CALLING STRIDER GENE HACKS. SOMETHING IN YOUR BLOOD ALLOWS YOU TO GET ALONG WITH ANNOYING TEALBLOODS.

TG: karkat the only reason Khanie gives you a hard time is because youre too similar

CG: I DON’T CARE WHAT KHANIE THINKS ABOUT ME.

TG: bullshit

CG: IT’S ARTHAT BEING A PAIN IN MY ASS! HE HATES ME FOR NO FUCKING REASON! WHY DOES HE THINK I’M AT THE MUSEUM? I FUCKING HATE MUSEUMS! HE LIKES A DAMN BUG MORE THAN ME!

TG: karkat i hate to sound like an afterschool special but your kids are under no obligation to like or love you

TG: you have to teach them that  

CG: YOU’RE RIGHT. YOU DO SOUND LIKE AN AFTERSCHOOL SPECIAL.

TG: karkat

CG: AND YEAH, YOU’RE RIGHT. IT JUST...

CG: IT SUCKS, YOU KNOW?

TG: i didnt say that it wouldnt suck

 

Kankri returns to the fine arts section with gift shop bags. Kempie has his face painted with Germanium’s national colors.

“How’s it going?” Kankri asks.

“Same as before.” You shrug.

Arthat is observing a dramatic statue: the God of Time’s Clockworks stands over Blood and Haze, having skewered the other god with a barrage of swords. The lustful god writhes in pain. The plaque says, _Time Will Destroy, c. 2022_.

You walk over to Arthat. “Like it, huh?”

“Je suppose.” Arthat says, “There est a certain drama to it that je appreciate et je workings of le marble et dramatic posing est memorable. Je conquering of mindless animalistic lust by le rationality et inevitability of time as opposed to le common topic of le idealized pitch romance.”

“That...sure is a thing.” You have no idea how to contribute to that.

“Are you sure about that?” Kankri walks over. “The title insists that Time destroys but, doesn’t consider the actions of Time’s Clockworks as an individual. Look at the face of Time’s Clockworks. It’s hung down. Why does he not pose victoriously? This is no trampling of lust. It is loss. Time destroys because the nature of lust is temporal.”

Arthat frowns. “But that only applies to le mortals et warmbloods. Nous coldbloods have nothing to fear of le ravages of time.”

“You are still susceptible to the ravages of disease, war, and danger. A bullet will stop you just the same as it would stop me.” Kankri counters, “Though I think we’re both missing the point: is Time an entity or a person in this work?”

Arthat smiles. “But have you considered that…”

Kempie and you watch Kankri and Arthat candidly talk about the statue, smiling and smirking at each counter-argument. Eventually Kempie tugs on Kankri’s arm.

“ _Dad_ ,” Kempie whines, “we’ve been here for an hour!”

“Really?” Kankri laughs. “Oh my! I bet your mother is wondering where you are.” He looks at Arthat, “Some other time?”

Arthat nods. “Mais bien sûr!”

You’re glad to leave the museum. You ask Kankri to drop Arthat off at Aranea’s trailer.

The only change to Aranea’s trailer is the handicap ramp leading up to the back and forth doors. When you ring the doorbell, Aranea promptly answers. She must have been leafing through old books because there’s dust all over her blouse.

“Arthat, my _darling!”_ Aranea says, looking at her grandson with a big, warm, smile. “I was wondering you would come.”

Arthat smiles. “I missed you too, grand-mère.”

Aranea smiles and the two Serket enter the trailer. You’re glad they didn’t invite you in, as you don’t have three hours to spare listening to ceruleans prattle on about politics and history.

Kankri offers to give you a ride back to SHEV, but you decline. You need a walk to clear your head. You take the long way home, watching the other half of your neighborhood. Themma and Equius are on the front lawn of the Zahhak-Megido trailer, testing a bottle rocket. The bottle rocket takes off, whizzes through the air, and promptly breaks a window in the Maryam trailer. Porrim’s scream emanates from the trailer and Equius and Themma run. You decide to do the same.

You turn the corner on Park Avenue, where the Nitram trailer is. Torken is riding down the road on his bike. Along with Hercul, the brownblood is a budding athlete.

When Torken pedals over, you notice Simham isn’t with him. “Hey, Torken,” you say, “Where’s Simham at?”

“He’s with his grandparents,” Torken says, “so Momeju and me are gonna look for Rawhead.” 

“Who’s ‘Rawhead’?”

“It’s a lusus in the swamp. Momeju saw it. I saw it too.”

You have no idea where or when Torken saw it, but you don’t want kids running around the swamp without supervision. You’ve already been to neighborhood meetings about fencing off the swamp but there’s no money in the park budget to do so.

“You told your parents where you’re going, right?” you ask.

 _“Yes…”_ Torken grumbles, “Momeju’s grandma said that if Momeju wants to come, she has to be there.”

“That’s good.” Meenah will definitely keep an eye out for the kids. “You’re a good kid, Torken.”

Torken rolls his eyes and pedals off. He hates being under the yoke of supervision but you’d rather the kids feel smothered than get seriously hurt. You hate how Dirk and Jake let Khanie run around the neighborhood like a wild child, but she becomes worse if left inside the trailer all day.

When you get to SHEV, you’re greeted by loud barking. Sonny Jr. runs over, pulling Nessie along in a wagon. Using rope and some creativity, the youngest Strider has made her own sled lusus. Sonny Jr. doesn’t seem to mind and is barking excitedly, wagging his tail.

“What are you two doing?” you ask.

“This is my royal carriage.” Nessie holds up a plastic katana. “I am Princess Warrior Khanie and this is my kingdom, Nessavaria. If you want to stay, you have to join my court.”

You smile. “Can I be your knight?”

“No, Bec is the knight.” Nessie points to Bec. The large dog-lusus is sitting in the front yard wearing a Burger King crown and panting in the heat. Nessie smiles at you. “You can be a bard!”

You frown. “I don’t think like that idea.”

“Bards are fun! I want music and singing”--Nessie stands in the wagon--“so proclaims the Princess Warrior!”

Sonny Jr.’s head turns as a squirrel catches his eye. The squirrel notices him and makes a break for it. Sonny Jr. bolts forward, running toward the animal. Nessie squeals and falls backward. You run and grab her before she can hit the ground. Nessie is durable for a human kid but you’d rather not have to explain to Dave why she’s crying and covered in dirt.

Nessie climbs onto your shoulders. “Where’s Arthat?” she asks.

“He’s with his grandmother.” You watch Sonny Jr. chase the squirrel but stop at the edge of the road. The dog-lusus whines and retreats back to where Bec is sitting. “Is Arthat going to be in your kingdom?”

“It’s a princessdom!” Nessie insists, “And yeah, if he wants…” She adds shyly.  

“I’m sure he’ll love whatever title you give him.” You can’t see Arthat being a corsair like his great-grandmother. He’d prefer something more refined. “Maybe a prince?”

Nessie giggles. “Maybe...”

You enter the trailer with Nessie still holding onto you. Dave is wiping off his queen make-up and Jade is looking at paperwork while sitting by the window, keeping an eye out for her daughter.

You plop Nessie on the couch.  “I brought you an envoy from Nessavaria.”

“I’m not an envoy! I’m a princess warrior who knows magic and rides a dragon. A gold dragon.” Nessie says, “Also, my army is made of clowns and acrobats. It’s way better than Khanie’s.”

Even in the world of imagination, there’s still room for political pissing matches.

“How was the museum?” Dave asks as Nessie climbs into his lap.

“Boring, but Arthat liked it so...” You shrug, “Where’s Khanie at?”

Jade points to the backdoor. “Khanland.”

You decide to investigate what form Khanie’s brutal warring tribe has taken. You already know imaginary mountains and river deltas have divided her bedroom with different kingdoms assigned to various toys. You think only a child of Dirk and Jake would have such a weird, regimented sense of ‘play’.

When you enter the yard, you don’t immediately see Khanie. The kit is hiding under the table with a blanket placed over it to keep out the sun. The girl is lying on her outdoor blanket, staring at her plastic armies. For a child who hoards army men like gold, she seems uninterested in using them.

You don’t say a word. You sit in the grass and watch Khanie. Wasps hum, making their annual nest next to the meat locker.

“…m’sorry.” Khanie mutters.

“What?” You know exactly what she said, but after the daily hell she puts you through, you’re going to rub it in.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Khanie grumbles, looking away, “for...running away and stuff.”

There’s no way in hell she means it. “I bet if you act nicer when your Dads are away, they’ll be more willing to take you places when they feel you’re ready.”

“But I wanna go _now_!” Khanie sits up. “I already know how to shoot BB guns! I wanna see the real thing! I’m tougher than any lusus!”

Like hell she is. You’ve seen Dirk and Jake drag home the gigantic carcasses of lusii they plan on stuffing. For all of Dirk and Jake’s unconventional parenting, you’re glad they’re using _some_ common sense.

 “Sure you are.” You stand. “Okay, I’m sick of your moping. I bet Suxxor is feeling better. You wanna go bother him and make him wish he was sicker?”

Khanie scrambles out from under the table. “Yeah!”

You go back inside to let Dave and Jade know you’re stealing Khanie and putting her grounding on hiatus. Even if Suxxor is still sick to his stomach, having Khanie around will put him in a better mood.

You leave the trailer with your daughter. She refuses to hold your hand but you enjoy just having her with you. At least you can make one of your kids happy.

 


End file.
